


Devoted

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Devil May Cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-21
Updated: 2003-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:09:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1635710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dante falls in battle and wakes up to something he did not expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devoted

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Nyx

 

 

I need to apologize for not making this an NC-17 like my person requested. I caught the flu shortly before the deadline, and by the time I was able to get back to the story I didn't have time to do all that I wanted with it. I am pleased with what I have, and hope Nyx likes the story despite everything. 

Devoted 

Dante grunted in pain as he crashed against the far wall of the courtyard. Ebony and Ivory fell from his hands, clattering to the fired scorched stones beneath him. Collapsing to the ground, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet. "Is that the best you've got to offer, pooch? I'm not feeling very impressed yet." He smirked at the monster watching him from across the massive courtyard, brushing away the dust and grime of the stones he'd shattered at impact. 

The monster's voice was thick with mucus, gravelly and deep. The force of it made their battle ground tremble, even the thunder above them paled in comparison. "Stupid half breed, your pathetic devil form is no match for the likes of me. Never mind those little toys of yours. Did you think that one brief journey into hell made you fit to tangle with a true demon?" 

Dante forced a laugh, his tone taunting as he replace drew a sword from his back, "I'm plenty fit to deal with the likes of a sniveling puppy. Stop whining and let's get this over with. Alastor is eager for a taste of your flesh." 

Cerberus' three heads raged and snarled, moving with speed much greater than his immeasurable size should have allowed. Dante cursed, forcing his devil trigger to work once more and escaping to the sky. Quickly he turned, surging down with sword crackling while the demon dog attempted to slow down and change direction. It was to no avail. Dante was too tired, too strained to dodge the attacks of the three-headed demon as he would have at the beginning of the fight. He hated to admit it, but Cerberus was winning. 

Dante could not stop the attack of all three heads at once from his position - he grazed one but found himself once again tossed into a wall. Groaning, he could not quite make himself stand. But he had managed to keep his sword - no, he hadn't. Not quite. He still held the hilt, but as his head slowly cleared from the dizziness of the impact he realized that the weight of his sword wasn't right. 

Alastor lay in pieces across the courtyard, the shards crackling with lightening and sparking with energy. Dante stared at the pieces, frustration on his normally expressionless face. Distracted by the loss of his treasured blade, Dante failed to look up in time at Cerberus' latest attack. A sudden wave of brutal heat washed over him, barely endured by what remained of his demonic strength. The demon dog's fireball came too fast and, unprepared, Dante could not dodge it. His vision went black. 

Cerberus' meaty voice rang out, his laughter a sickening, gruesome sound. "That was the mighty son of Sparda? Pathetic. I had hoped for a better fight than that." Flicking his dark heads, he carried himself toward the fallen Dante. 

A sudden scream tore from one of his throats, and the massive demon turned his cumbersome weight to confront the cause of the wrenching, paralyzing pain. 

A man stood on the far side of the courtyard, Ebony and Ivory clutched in his hands. His short, spiky hair was stark white, though it almost seemed to shimmer with pale blue light in the gloom cast by the growing thunder and lightening. His skin was just as pale against his black clothing. His eyes sparked as he stared angrily at the demonic dog across the courtyard, and he seemed to radiate a fierce, wild energy. "Leave him alone, Cerberus." 

"Who are you, little boy? I do not recall inviting any one else to my private party." 

The figure said nothing, merely began firing. The shots hit their mark, taking the unprepared Cerberus by surprise. The man wasted no time as the dog floundered in pain, tucking the guns away and dashing across the space and lifting the unconscious Dante in his arms. Hearing the ominous snarls behind him, he looked up at the sky. His eyes blazed brightly, blue and white with heat. Thunder shook the sky and earth as his eyes flared, a bolt of lightening surging down to shatter the ground between the dog and men. Cerberus howled in anger and pain, and the strange man used his chance, dashing away toward the exit that was now unguarded. 

Cerberus howled again behind him, but the man didn't slow. Looking again at the sky, he called down another searing bolt. This one grazed the demon dog, and he howled again at the unexpected pain. 

Halting abruptly at the exit, the man shifted and settled Dante in his arms. The weight of the half demon did not seem to affect him. He glared at the three-headed dog with white-hot eyes, then turned and disappeared into the rain-drenched night.   
 

* * *

  


"Nnn..." Dante opened his eyes, then shut them again as the light seared his eyes. Waiting a few moments, he tried again more slowly. Blinking rapidly, he shifted his position and gripped the blankets beneath him, pushing himself into a sitting position. Blankets? Wait...this is my room...Confusion clouded Dante's face as he took in his location. Undeniably his room...but the last thing he recalled was passing out, the heat of demonic fire too much for him to endure in his weakened state. 

Movement caught the corner of his eye and Dante jerked his head around. He stared a moment in surprise at what he saw. "Virgil...it can't be...no, not quite." The man stood staring back at him, motionless. Dante threw himself up and out of bed, crossing the room and catching the other man by the collar of his jacket. "Who the hell are you? Why do you look so much like Virgil? What game is this?" 

Blue eyes sparked, but the man seemed amused rather than alarmed by Dante's grip. "Is this any way to greet your rescuer? And it's your fault that I look much like your brother, not mine." 

Narrowing his eyes, Dante turned and tossed the man across the room. The stranger landed awkwardly on the bed, but still seemed unperturbed. "That was uncalled for. I help you get away - hell, I saved you from Cerberus - and you thank me by throwing me around your room?" 

Grim faced, "I didn't ask to be rescued, and I don't see how you could have done it. There were no others there. Just me and the damned dog." 

The man smirked, "And me. Though I must say I'm disappointed you let me break so easily." 

"What?" Dante demanded. 

The man pushed himself up, sitting casually on the edge of the bed. "I'm surprised you're up and about already. You seem to have fully recovered from the beating you took. Is the Sparda blood always this impressive? Then again..." he rose with cat like grace from the bed, moving to stand in front of Dante and run a smooth, warm hand along a fine scar in center of the demon's chest. The touch seemed to thrum with energy against Dante's skin, like electricity trapped in wire. "...You did survive my brutal greeting, didn't you?" He smirked, undaunted as Dante crushed his hand in a tight grip and jerked it away. 

Dante stared at him is silence, a frown marring his strong features. Brow furrowed, he examined the other man for several long seconds. His eyes widened slightly in shock as the man's words registered, the pieces coming together in his mind. "But that's impossible - Alastor?" 

"One and the same," Alastor smirked in amusement as Dante shoved him away, once again colliding with the bed. He lay there as Dante towered over him, "Though I must say it feels strange to be in this form after having been in the sword for so long." 

"What's going on?" From his dresser Dante had grabbed dark Ebony, and now he held it ready at his side. "Who are you? I don't play games before breakfast, so spill it." 

"You already know who I am. Alastor." 

Dante snorted, "Ridiculous. Alastor is -was-the name of my sword." 

The blue eyed man smirked up at Dante, propping himself up on his elbows on the bed, "Was is certainly correct. You weren't at your best in that fight, not at all. You were doing well at first, but you're way too arrogant for your own good sometimes. In spite of your brutal mistreatment of me, I did manage to help you. Of course, the sword is gone for good now...it's a pity, in a way. I enjoyed that while it lasted. Especially in your hands...you know how to handle a sword." 

Lifting Ebony and aiming it at the man's head, Dante glared. "I said I don't play games. Start making sense or else." 

Alastor sighed, rising fluidly from his sprawled position on the bed. He approached Dante, unperturbed by the gun. His fingers again feathered across Dante's chest, almost caressing the scar in the center of it. "So many tried to claim me but couldn't. The powers of thunder and lightening are too much for most to contain. But you took it nicely, quite nicely. 

"Get away!" Dante shoved him away again, glaring darkly. "You're a damned sword." 

Alastor sighed, looking up at Dante with a wounded expression. "I had no idea you'd be this upset about it all. I was only trying to help..." 

"Alastor is a sword. You are not Alastor." 

"For a demon you're being remarkably obtuse about all this." 

"Maybe I'd be less obtuse if you stopped yapping and started explaining." He again raised Ebony, though both seemed to realize it was more form than actual threat. 

Alastor sighed again, half-sitting, half lying on the bed. "First of all, I'm not a damned sword. 'Alastor' is merely a spirit of vengeance. I was bound to the sword because that was the most convenient form to take. But you, cocky bastard that you are, took quite the brutal beating in that fight with Cerberus. Honestly, I'm offended you handled me so carelessly." He sniffed, "I thought I meant more to you than that." 

He pushed himself up to try once again to stand and face Dante as he spoke, though he avoided touching the man this time. He spread his arms, "I didn't know what else to do - I had to help you, but the sword that held me was shattered. I needed a new form fast; in desperation I took the image strongest in your mind. The one that always appears when you want to cry for help." 

Pain flickered briefly in Dante's eyes, quickly overshadowed by his usual brash manner. "So does this mean I'm short one sword now?" 

Alastor smirked, "Yes, but it also means you're plus one assistant." 

"I don't recall needing as assistant." 

"Oh sure, because you did so well on that last mission." 

"I think I liked you better as a sword - assuming you really are my sword." 

"Oh, stop that. You know damn well I'm Alastor. And it's more correct to say I was inhabiting the sword, not that I was the sword. Semantics, I suppose. I mean, how many people know where that lovely wound on your chest came from? The one that lingers though your Sparda blood usually heals everything?" He stalked forward again, smirking as Dante latched onto his wrist, preventing his touching the demon's chest. 

"Stop doing that. Why do you insist on trying to touch me," Again he tried to shove the sword-turned-human away, frowning in displeasure when the smirking, white haired man didn't budge. 

The smirk increased, stunning blue eyes sparking in mirth and determination. "Call it fascination. We've been a pretty good team for years, don't you think? I pierced you in that castle and you barely flinched - how many did I kill before that? I lost count long before you came...but you took it, hell you thrived on it. Since then we've only grown stronger together. Then that damned dog shattered me...but I stand here more capable than ever. Stronger than ever because of what I accomplished with you. So yes, call it fascination. That scar on your chest marks the beginning of my...devotion...to you." 

Dante said nothing and Alastor frowned, "We work well together, wouldn't you say? You can't deny that you liked the way I felt in your hands, so much more alive than your precious guns. Not very loyal toys, they warmed to my grip easily enough when I used them to slow down Cerberus. But women are fickle, I would say you know that better than anyone." His condescending smirk returned for an instant, before falling back into the frown. "Much less angry than that hellion Ifrit. Come now, master, don't lie and say you didn't enjoy your time with Vengeance?" 

Dante didn't move, allowing the man that had been his sword to do as he wanted for the time being. The touch of the sword was strange, but not unpleasant. His hands were hot, energy seemed to thrum just below the surface of his skin. Like bottled lightening, eager to escape confinement. Dante watched as Alastor continued to touch him, bemused by the look on the sword's face. 

Alastor looked up, snapping blue eyes staring into Dante's own. "You took my kiss, and gave it back full measure. Barely had I pinned you to the floor before you fought back, and claimed me for your own Vengeance." 

Dante stared back, still not moving as Alastor slid pale arms up and around his neck, "I wasn't seeking vengeance - I just liked what I saw and took it. You started it." 

The sword smirked, "Be that as it may, you claimed me. I am yours now, until you finally succeed in getting yourself killed, or someone manages to take me from you." 

Dante smirked, reaching up to pull the arms from around his neck, "Somehow I doubt anyone would want an overfriendly ex-sword. Is there anyway to make you a sword again, or am I stuck with you this way?" 

Alastor made a face at him, refusing to let his arms be moved, "I'm not overfriendly, I'm trying to get much more personal than that." 

Dante gave up his efforts, "A little fast, don't you think?" 

"No faster than those woman were. And I'm much better than them." 

"Better, huh? You're certainly not lacking confidence." Dante twined his own arms around the sword's slender waist, again noticing that thrumming of energy that seemed to dance below the surface of Alastor's skin. So much like battle, when the sword vibrated with the lightening it called forth and it took all of Dante's concentration to contain he sword and slay the enemies. But here that familiar energy was more solidly contained, more pleasantly contained and Dante found he was curious to explore it more. 

"You like the way I feel?" Alastor's lips trailed over Dante's throat, a taste of that barely contained energy making Dante jerk slightly in surprise. But the sword held him tight, lips continuing a tingling path up Dante's throat to eventually claim his mouth. Dante let him, jerking again as jolts of energy surged through him, followed quickly by an old, familiar heat as the cold-hot taste of Alastor's eager mouth stole his attention. Still unsure as to how this had all began, Dante nevertheless returned the hungry kiss, fighting for dominance as he deepened it, searching for more of the wild, dizzying energy that was Alastor. His arms tightened around the sword's waist, pulling him as close as possible. He felt fingers tighten in his hair, currents of energy making him shiver as they traveled down his spine. 

Alastor broke away, smirking. "Any more objections?" 

Dante released him, pulling Alastor's arms away while the sword was cooperating. "Yes. I'm hungry, and there's still a demonic dog to take care of if I want to pay the rent this month." 

The sword surprised him and smiled, "Does that mean you're keeping me?" 

Turning away, Dante moved toward the bathroom. "What else am I supposed to do with you? You're my sword, aren't you?" 

Alastor's smile brightened as he stepped close and reached out to give Dante another of his wild kisses, "Yours until you no longer want me." 

"Are you as useful now as you were as a sword?" 

"How many times do I have to tell you? The sword was what contained me, and when you broke that I simply took from your mind the thing you think of most when you cry out for help. I am more useful now than I was before. You don't like this form?" Alastor looked up at Dante, pressing himself close to the demon. 

Dante said nothing, looking down at the pale man than looked so much like his lost brother. The thing you think of most when you cry out for help. "I don't dislike it." 

"I didn't think you would." 

 


End file.
